


Hypochondriac

by Brittle_Bone_Gabe



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Eddie Kaspbrak Has OCD, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Fluff, Gay Disaster Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Movie: IT Chapter Two (2019), OCD, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, One Shot, Panic Attacks, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Reddie, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brittle_Bone_Gabe/pseuds/Brittle_Bone_Gabe
Summary: Eddie had grown up with an overbearing mother, unfortunately for him the issues she’s caused him followed him into adulthood, Richie just wants to try to help.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 98





	Hypochondriac

Hypochondria is defined as: _an abnormal anxiety about one's health, especially with an unwarranted fear that one has a serious disease._ Unfortunately for Eddie Kaspbrak, he would be considered to be a hypochondriac. He didn’t see it, but everyone else could see it, and the Losers could definitely see it since they were kids. It wasn’t Eddie’s fault though, as his mother, Sonia Kaspbrak was the reason he was like this to begin with, pinning an issue on her son that wasn’t even his fault. 

When Eddie was five-years-old his father had sadly passed away from cancer, not long after that, Eddie came down with bronchitis and had to stay home for awhile until he started to feel better. Sonia had been terrified since then, thinking it was some sort of bad luck on their family; cursed with illness. Eddie couldn’t really remember the details about it, he just remembered that he was forced to go to the doctors a lot, like, at least twice a week a lot. He could remember back at his childhood home they had a kitchen cabinet just _filled_ with medications, so filled that if you opened it they would start to fall out. The moment Eddie found out the pills he had been taking were placebos he would refuse to take anything his mother gave him to treat his “illnesses” _._ If he got sick he would go to the pharmacy himself to get cold medicines that would help him.

While it was a strange case of a childhood trauma, it was still childhood trauma nonetheless. Sonia used this kind of treatment to control him, to make sure he couldn’t just leave the house when he wanted to, to make sure he would stay home with her so nothing on the outside could hurt him. And if that didn’t do it, she would guilt trip into staying; like when Richie and Stan wanted to go outside to play she would give Eddie _the look._ Pleading with him to stay, to take care of her since she suddenly wasn’t feeling well. Of course, Eddie couldn’t leave his mom behind to suffer, so he would say he couldn’t go out. 

Having this trauma stick throughout his life made everything difficult for Eddie, as everything had to be cleaned, everything had to be perfect, anything dirty had to either be cleaned that moment or get thrown out. _Germaphobe_ was another word that Richie would use to describe his husband. Laundry had to be done three times a week, if they were out they couldn’t sit on their bed with the same clothes they left the house in, and the moment they enter the house they have to wash their hands. It was a hard arrangement for Richie to get used to, but if it made Eddie feel better... then he had to do what he could. 

Richie was minding his own business one Saturday afternoon, he had his feet kicked up on the coffee table, his laptop on his lap as he was typing away. Since he had started writing his own material he’s been on the computer a lot more, he had deadlines now. _Deadlines._ When did he ever had to deal with deadlines? Never. The whole concept was foreign to him. Everyone was always breathing down his neck about his material too: _we need it soon, Richie; how’s the show coming, Richie?;do you just want us to rehire your writer?_ Hell no, he could do this himself. 

“Fucking... finally!” Richie yelled out loud to nobody in particular, finally pressing _save_ on his document file as he finished up his next round of material. The first time he tried writing for himself he forgot to hit save, so five hours to writing and planning when down the fucking drain. 

Richie could hear Eddie’s footsteps coming up from behind him. He leaned his head back on the couch to watch him walk from down the hallway towards the living room. His husband had that look on his face like he wasn’t in the mood to joke around; he was very serious. 

“Hey, Eds! Guess what!” Richie still asked, a huge smile on his face.

“Get up,” was all Eddie said as he moved past him to get to the closet by the front door. 

Richie was confused at first, not sure what he was talking about or what was going on, but that didn’t stop him from making a shitty joke. 

“Already there, baby,” he said, winking at his husband when he turned around to face him as he was scowling at him. 

Eddie turned back to the closet, pulling out a spray bottle before walking up to Richie who closed his laptop, tossing it next to him on the couch. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted when Eddie sprayed the water that was in the bottle at his face. 

“Oh, what the fuck?!” Richie said, standing up quickly, taking off his glasses. He tried cleaning them off from his shirt, but since his shirt was wet too it was just making it worse. “Eds, what the hell?” 

“I’m deep cleaning the couch,” was all Eddie said before going back to the closet. 

_Clean...? The couch?_ Was that something people did? 

“Why?” He asked, plopping back down, “it’s not like we fuck on it. _I mean, I would love to,_ but you won’t let me,” Richie rambled, moving his laptop to the coffee table. 

“Richie... _please_ get off the couch,” Eddie said, walking back up to him while holding onto a box of baking soda. 

“What’s got you all wound up?”

“I read this thing online,” Eddie started to say quickly that Richie zoned out for just a moment, trying to wrap around what he was saying, “that the couch is the most disgusting piece of furniture a person could own.” 

“I keep telling you, you read this shit online and get all worked up for nothing,” Richie started. 

“I mean, it _has_ to be true, right? At least to a certain degree...” at this point Eddie was muttering to himself, looking from the floor back up to Richie who still hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch. “Please move.” 

“No. Not until you-” Richie couldn’t even finish his ultimatum before Eddie pushed him off the couch. “Hey _,_ that was rude,” he said, sitting up on his elbows, looking at Eddie who was sprinkling the baking soda all over the couch. “What the fuck did you read this time? I want to see it,” he said, pulling himself up from the floor. 

Eddie just shook his head, going back down the hall to find the vacuum cleaner. Grumbling under his breath, Richie followed close behind his husband, trying to get him to spill whatever it was that was bothering him. Once Eddie was in one of these episodes it was hard to pull him out of it, would this be considered to be a type of anxiety attack? No... Well... maybe. Certainly had something to do with OCD, something that Richie _swore_ Eddie had but he wouldn’t listen to him. Yeah, worrying about germs to a certain degree could be normal, but _not_ like how Eddie felt about germs. 

“Eds, just let me see what you read,” Richie tried again, “it’s really not that ser-” he stopped himself. Even though Eddie wasn’t officially diagnosed with OCD that didn’t stop Richie from researching it, learning what he should and shouldn’t say to people who have that mental illness. “C’mon, Eddie, think about how far you’ve come. Remember when we first moved in together and you made sure we had two different blankets and I wasn’t allowed to touch yours? Now you hog the fucking blanket.” 

“I don’t hog the blanket, moron,” he said, attempting to yank the vacuum cleaner out from the closet in the hallway. “Can you get this out for me?” 

“No. I want to see what got you so worked up.” He put his hands on Eddie’s shoulders as he was pulling his phone out from his front pocket. “Let me see.”

Eddie held his phone out of reach as he unlocked his phone to find the “article” that he read earlier. “They wrote about all the bacteria that live in the couch, Richie. It- Hey!” He whined when the taller man plucked the phone from out of his hands, skimming the article. “Stop!” 

“Did you read the whole thing?” Richie asked him once he reached the bottom of the page.

“...yes... maybe... no. Why?” 

“The person who wrote this isn’t, like... someone who’s qualified to write shit like this, I never even heard of this site before. Where did you find it?” Eddie shrugged, still struggling with the vacuum. “C’mon, we’re not doing this.” Grabbing his shoulders again, Richie moved Eddie away from the closet, the smaller man complaining the whole time as he was moved into the kitchen, his back to him. 

Why didn’t Richie understand that what he was feeling was real? He was _scared to death_ of the possible illness the infectious bacteria could case. He wanted to protect himself, no, he mainly wanted to protect Richie from getting sick. How upset he would be if Richie got sick and passed away like his father did? Fuck, Eddie would never be able to forgive himself if anything happened to Richie. 

“Why won’t you just listen to me?!” Eddie exploded, stepping away from Richie’s grasp. Richie was stunned, yeah, Eddie would sometimes playfully yell at him, but this time he knew he was being serious. “I’m just- I’m...” He wrapped his arms around himself, breathing heavily going into what felt like a panic attack. “I can’t breathe...” 

Eddie’s limbs felt numb, like he wasn’t even in reality even more. Wait, was this even real? He forced himself to look down at his hands that he now held out in front of his face, moving them side to side to make sure they were actually his hands. The sudden pain in his chest made his panic attack worse, he was feeling dizzy like he was about to pass out. _Oh, fuck. I’m having a heart attack,_ Eddie thought as he tangled his fingers through his hair as he kept breathing heavily. 

“Eds? Hey...” Richie said calmly, wrapping himself around Eddie, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Eddie moved away from him, not wanting to be touched right now, as he was in the middle of panicking. 

“Don’t touch me...” he mumbled, stepping away from Richie, holding onto himself again. 

Richie nodded, understanding that, as when he was having an anxiety attack he didn’t liked to be touched either. 

“What can I do?”

“I need my.. my...” Eddie couldn’t even finish his sentence, tears were burning in his eyes as he was trying to find the ability to breathe. 

“Inhaler?” Eddie shook his head, trembling slightly, “want your anxiety meds?” He nodded. “How about you go sit on the couch-... the... chair. I’ll grab your pills.” 

_Spinning... everything’s spinning..._

Eddie thought he was going to pass out again, he couldn’t find anything in the environment to use to ground himself back into reality. 

“... _Eddie?_ Eddie,” Richie tried again when he didn’t say or do anything. 

The sound of Richie’s voice managed to snap Eddie out of whatever trance he was in. He spun around, looking up at Richie who had a small, sad smile on his face. That was Eddie’s grounding point; he studied every detail of Richie’s face, how his soft, slightly curly hair laid on his forehead, the crinkles around his eyes as he smiled, the glare from his glasses lenses... _Goddamn he was so fuckin’ cute._

 _“_ You...” Eddie reached up, squishing Richie’s cheeks, catching him off guard, “are so. Stupid. I love it. I love you.” 

“Uh... Thanks, Eds. I love you too.” 

“You just comfort me, even though you just... _talk so fucking much.”_

Richie couldn’t help but laugh at that, wrapping his hands gently around Eddie’s wrists that were still on his face. 

“Is this okay? Let me know if you don’t want-” 

“No!” He said quickly, closing his eyes as he was trying to steady himself from the horrible dizziness surrounding him, “I’m dying...” 

“No, no, you’re not dying.” Richie moved his hands up to cover Eddie’s smaller hands. “Wanna go lay down? I can get you your meds, okay?” He nodded in response before Richie laid his hands on his shoulders, turning him around as they walked back to their room. 

The walls in the hallway felt like they were closing in on Eddie, causing him to panic even more. He wanted to scream, he wanted everything to just go away. The only thing that was keeping him sane right now was Richie rubbing his back and giving him words of reassurance. _You’re doing great... We’re almost there... I’m proud of you, Eds..._

How’d he get so lucky?

Richie was about to pull the cover and blankets back on Eddie’s side of the bed, but remembered that last time he did that Eddie didn’t like that, feeling like he was confined. Instead, he helped him into the bed, watching him as he settled in so he was comfortable. 

Richie had no idea how he got so lucky to end up with Eddie. They haven’t- no, they had forgotten each other for years, just to end up back in Derry for... some reason, and all those feelings that Richie forgot flooded back. Thankfully he managed to overcome his fear of rejection to basically blurt out his true feelings for Eddie just before he was leaving for the airport back to New York. Apparently he had filed for divorce before leaving for Maine, pushing everything through so he was basically a free man even before he managed to get back home. He left everything back with Myra, starting a new with Richie. The best decision he had ever made in his entire life. 

“How are you feeling, Eddie?” Richie asked after sitting next to him on the mattress for a few minutes, he had been watching Eddie’s face twitch with his eyes shut tight while trying to control his panic attack. He reached over, booping his nose to get his attention, and he finally opened his eyes. 

“I don’t want you dying, Rich,” he said, looking up at him with sad eyes. 

Richie’s face scrunched up in confusion, not sure what he was talking about. “Wh..what? Why would I die?” 

“Ever heard of sepsis?” 

_Of course I’ve heard of sepsis, you never stop talking about it._ Was what Richie wanted to say in response to that, but he decided, for once, to keep his mouth shut. Maybe he hasn’t been handling the whole OCD thing the correct way. Maybe he’s been invalidating him and that’s why he was sent into a panic attack. Oh fuck, was this fault? 

“I... think I’ve heard you mention it before,” Richie finally settled on saying, reaching over to Eddie’s night stand to grab the orange RX bottle that contained his anxiety medication. He held the small, white, oval pill out to Eddie who had the talent of being able to take pills without a drink. Eddie looked at the pill then back up to Richie, looking worried. “What’s wrong, honey? Isn’t this what you needed?” 

“Where’d you get that from?” 

“Oh, uh...” Richie rattled the bottle that was still in his hand, “this.” 

“I want to see it.” 

_This is the same pill you take everyday, Eddie. You know what it is._

_“_ Sure, here,” Richie once again stopped himself from saying what he was thinking, choosing the best route to help Eddie as he handed the bottle over. He watched as Eddie was reading the area of the label that describes exactly what the pill looked like; size wise, color wise, even what was printed on the pill. 

“What’s on it?” 

Richie let out a quick sigh, holding the small pill up so he could see it. Hell, even with his glasses he could barely make out what was on it. 

“One side says _FL..._ I think the other side says _20.”_

Satisfied that the pill Richie was trying to give him matched up with the bottle he took it from him, taking it instantly. Honestly? It made Richie cringe watching him take meds without a drink, it was unnatural, but growing up taking pills his whole life must’ve made it easier to do that. 

Even though Eddie was with Richie and knew that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt or trick him horribly, he was still scared of being given placebos again. He was scared of being lied to, of being told he was sick but truly wasn’t, _he just wanted to be normal._

 _“_ Sepsis can really fuck you up,” Eddie continued, leaning back in the bed, closing his eyes again, waiting for the pill to kick in, “if you get an infection, sometimes your body can overreact when trying to fight the infection.” Richie just nodded along, letting Eddie go on to talk about whatever he needed to get off his chest. “It can cause organ damage and eventually organ failure.” 

“Huh... that sounds scary.” 

“I don’t want you to die of sepsis, Richie.” 

“I...” He paused, trying to pick his words carefully, “I really appreciate that, Eds. Bacteria can cause it?”

“Bacterial infections are the main cause, actually. That’s why I wanted to clean the couch, I don’t want you to get sick. I was... just trying to protect you.” 

_Well, that broke Richie’s heart._ And now he felt like an asshole. 

“You’re so sweet, Eds.” Richie leaned down, planting a kiss on his forehead. “Always lookin’ out for me; the best husband.” He couldn’t help but smile when he saw Eddie’s cheeks turn pink. 

“S...shut up, dick.” 

“Mmm... no,” he crawled over Eddie, plopping down on his side of the bed. “I love you, Eddie.” 

“I love you too.” 

“Can I hold you?” He asked, looking at Eddie who still had his eyes closed. 

“Mhm,” he breathed, rolling over so his back was facing Richie, who wrapped himself around the smaller man, holding him tight against him. “Richie?” 

“Hm?” 

“Do think I’m annoying?” 

“Yeah, but not because you’re worried about germs. You just have a loud mouth.” 

“ _I_ have a loud mouth?!” Eddie turned around quickly, looking at Richie who had a huge smile on his face. “You can’t ever shut the fuck up!” 

“So noisy.” Eddie groaned, scooting away from him. “No, wait, I’m sorry. You’re a... moderate loud mouth. Quiet until provoked.” He started running his fingers up and down Eddie’s back, feeling small chills running through his spine. 

“You’re the only one who provokes me, you ass.” 

“It’s how I show I love you. Just like how you say-”

“ _Beep beep, Richie.”_

 _“_ Thank you. Exactly.” 

They were silent for a while, taking in the peace of being in each others company. Feeling Richie’s arms draped around him felt nice, like everything was real, like he was real, that everything was going to be okay. Richie... Richie was Eddie’s comfort blanket, he knew that for a long time but couldn’t find the exact phrasing to describe it. It was as if Richie knew when he was about to go into a panic or anxiety attack and would take charge, making sure he was okay, making sure he had everything he needed, trying his best to help. Sure, sometimes Richie didn’t say the right things, but he was trying and that’s all that mattered. 

“How’re you feelin’, Eddie?” Richie asked, burying his face in his back. 

“Better, thanks to you.” 

“Good.” The moment the words left Richie’s mouth, he sat up, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed before standing up, leaving Eddie very confused. “C’mon, Eds.” 

“What? Where are we going?” He asked, sitting up, feeling a bit loopy from the anxiety meds kicking in. 

“You wanted the vacuum cleaner out, right? To deep clean the couch?” He asked from the hallway, yanking it out from the closet. “Its been about twenty-minutes. I think it’s ready.” When he turned around he jumped, not expecting Eddie to be standing right behind him. “Jesus!”

“It’s super easy to deep clean, Richie,” Eddie started quickly, taking the vacuum cleaner from him, “after you put the baking soda on the couch and let it sit you just vacuum it off and it’s done.” 

“Oh, well... that’s pretty easy,” he responded as he followed him through the living room. 

He stood back by the TV, watching Eddie running the vacuum cleaners brush all over the couch, making sure all the baking soda was cleaned off. Okay, to be fair, this process was a lot easier than Richie had expected, thinking they had to buy some special cleaner or something. If that would’ve been the case, however, Richie would’ve gone out right away to get whatever Eddie needed to make him feel better. He would done anything for him. 

While he was doing that, Richie went back to the closet in the hallway, he reached all the way back, grabbing the worn out blanket that they never used. If there was anything Richie could do to make Eddie feel better he would do it in a heartbeat. So he had the perfect idea. 

“There! It’s done,” Eddie announced proudly. 

“Good job, baby,” he said, reaching over to give Eddie a kiss. “I have an idea to keep the couch cleaner.” He dropped the blanket over the couch, covering the back, tucking it into the cushions. “So now you can just wash the blanket.” 

Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie, hugging him tight. He wasn’t used to people trying to understand what he was feeling, in fact, he was used to people telling him it was all in his head, that he was overreacting, etc. Richie was always different with him though, he would always try to accommodate with him to make sure he was comfortable, helping him through his thoughts and panic attacks. Hell, Eddie would remember that Myra would purposely mess things up, make them dirty just to get on his nerves then practically laugh and wonder why he was so upset. Yeah, Richie made jokes, but he was starting to understand when his jokes were going too far and take it back, making sure everything was okay with him. 

Richie couldn’t help but chuckle as he just thought of a joke. “Hey, now that we have the blanket on the couch can we fuck on it now?” 

“Absolutely.”

“Really?!”

“...fuckin’ not.”


End file.
